By Max Jitney

I sometimes wonder how things might have been.  What if I’d married?  Had children?  Or of the thousands of other feasible outcomes?   Not talking doctor or lawyer here.  The roads not taken.  Indulging in such fantasies is probably harmless.  Or can be.  Unless it turns into recrimination: guilt for not fulfilling the hopes your parents had for you, or you had for yourself.  A certain degree of self-awareness is probably healthy.  But at some point it can become morbid: a self obsessed narcissist.  After a while, you can know no more.  Nor should you want to.  Which brings to mind one of my favorite quotes:  “The self you’re trying to fix is the illusion that keeps you from seeing there’s nothing broken.”

Are the millions of Buddhist monks who sit cross legged in silence for decades bothered by such concerns?  Are they bothered by anything?

Is this relevant in any way to my Quaker faith?  Mary Oliver would have us be filled with light and to shine.  Such a lovely, simple prescription.  Not a dictum unique to Quaker thought and practice.  Do you need anything else?

So what does it feel like to be a member of the Quaker community?  Are we basically an interesting assortment of rocks that just happen to be in the same bag?  Some of us share our joys and sorrows.  But not all are willing or able to do so.  Of course, you can – and should? – be friends to folks you’ve never met and don’t even know.  In this sense “friend” becomes a more generic term, like “buddy.”  We’re a group, not a tribe.  Friends?  Sure, why not.  But maybe “Friendly” meeting would be more accurate.  

I’m very glad to be here.  I assume you all are too.